


Lest We Forgive

by BangAndBlame_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangAndBlame_Archivist/pseuds/BangAndBlame_Archivist
Summary: By Kathy HintzeUnusual for this author: an unhappy ending.





	Lest We Forgive

**Author's Note:**

> Note from oracne, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Bang and Blame](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Bang_and_Blame), a Blake’s 7 archive, which has been offline for several years. To keep the works available for readers and scholars, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after June 2017. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Bang and Blame collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/BangAndBlame/profile).
> 
> originally published in POWERPLAY #6

The pain in his side was worse than anything he had suffered before and it showed no signs of weakening. Must keep fighting it, Del Tarrant told himself, to stop was to die.

He forced his eyes to open and stared straight into Hell itself. Avon, standing alone, straddling Blake's body with his weapon drawn up, a strange smile on his lips. A dozen Federation troopers surrounded him, their own weapons pointed at him almost point blank.

"Give up, Avon," a silken voice purred from somewhere to Tarrant's right. "Surrender and I will spare your life."

Avon's smile grew broader if that was possible. "Surrender, Madame? Ah, that's not a word I've ever cared for."

"And dying is?"

Servalan glided into Tarrant's view then, all dressed in black with a thin line of gold outlining her gown. She halted directly in front of Avon, a very stupid move in Tarrant's opinion. She was daring Avon to fire, daring him. to kill her. But Avon did not fire nor did he surrender his weapon. He only stared at her with that ridiculous smile.

"Commissioner, please, stay back," the officer in charge warned. Servalan laughed. "He won't fire," she said. "Will you, Avon?"

Still Avon said nothing. He seemed almost frozen in time, his eyes dark, totally at odds with the expression he wore.

 _What is the matter with him?_  Tarrant wondered.  _Kill her. Do it now._

"Well, Avon? Will you lower your weapon or must I order my men to take it?"

"Try it, Servalan," Avon replied in a low menacing tone, using her true identity for the first time.

"Servalan?" She looked at him in mock bewilderment. "Servalan is dead, Avon."

"Is she?" He tensed ever so slightly, but it enough that Servalan took a step backwards, out of the range of her own men's weapons.

 _Damn it, Avon, shoot!_  Tarrant swore silently.  _Kill her while you have the chance!_

"You are obviously mad," Servalan responded with something like regret in her tone.

"But of course, Madame President," Avon purred back. "How else could I do such a thing?" His eyes flickered to the body below him for the briefest second before coming back to rest on her.

Servalan was puzzled. Tarrant could see it in her eyes. For that matter, Tarrant was puzzled too. What kind of game was Avon playing? If he had hoped to lure her close enough to snatch and hold her as a hostage, that time was past. If he meant to kill her, why didn't he get on with it?

Tarrant caught movement from the corner of his eye and very slowly turned his head to look. Dayna met his gaze, her eyes glazed with pain. So she was alive too.

"Commissioner, I must insist!"

The words pulled Tarrant's attention back to Avon and he could sense that Dayna had also focused on him. Did Avon know any of his companions were still alive? Was he counting on them for help? But most of all, what was he planning? Tarrant found himself wishing he was telepathic so he could read Avon's thoughts. A shudder which had nothing to do with pain shook his body. No, if Avon was mad, it would be better not to.

"Be silent!" Servalan hissed in reply. "I have been very patient, Avon. Very patient. It is over. Surrender your weapon to me. I give you my word none of my men will harm you."

"None of your men?" Avon laughed coldly. "But you failed to mention yourself, Servalan." Again he emphasized the name.

"It's useless, Commissioner," the officer announced.

"Are you challenging my authority?" Servalan demanded, whirling about to face the guilty party.

It happened in an instant. Avon's arm snaked out and he grabbed Servalan, jerking her tightly against his chest, his weapon now pointed directly at her head.

"Move please," he dared the men around him. "I should like very much to blow her head off."

"Don't be a fool, man," the Commander snapped. "We outnumber you 12 to 1."

"Make that 12 to 3, Commander," Del Tarrant amended, bringing his weapon to bear on the Commander. "If any of your men move, you will be the first to die." Very carefully, he pulled himself up into a seating position.

"Avon, this is...." The rest of Servalan's words were choked off by Avon's hand which had developed a liking for her throat.

"Dayna, I could use some help," Tarrant muttered as he tried to make it to his knees.

From the tight expression on her face, the thought of moving was agony, but Dayna managed to drag herself over to where Tarrant was and held the gun for him while he pulled himself to his feet.

"What was that you said about odds?" Avon inquired of the Federation Commander.

"What do we do now?" Tarrant asked. His side was aching something fierce and he knew that Dayna had to be hurting more.

"Give Dayna your gun," Avon ordered, "and check the others."

"I shouldn't try anything, Commander," Tarrant said, handing the weapon over to Dayna. "She may be hurt, but she is still very dangerous."

"Thank you, Tarrant," Dayna purred, forcing a smile. Every inch of her body was quaking in pain but she kept it from her face.

Soolin was dead, felled by a shot from behind. Vila was dead as well, also shot in the back. The one time Vila had not played the fool and it had cost him. Tarrant shook his head sadly.

"Both dead, Avon." Tarrant didn't bother to mention Blake. That he was dead was very obvious.

"Both?" There was the faintest trace of what might have been called emotion in his voice and Tarrant heard it. Not for Soolin surely. No, it had to be for Vila. For the one man who had always stood by him, until lately, that is. Avon's hand tightened slightly around Servalan's throat.

"You cannot escape, Avon," the Commander demanded.

Avon smiled at him coldly. "Perhaps we do not plan to."

Confusion fought with logic for a moment on the Commander's face. "You cannot use Commissioner Sleer as a hostage," he announced. "My superiors will not allow it."

"Then she will die," Dayna advised with a satisfied look.

The Commander nodded. "Regrettably, yes."

Servalan stared at him. "You have no authority to sanction that."

"Commissioner, my orders come from the President himself. Blake and his band are to be destroyed, once and for all. No matter the cost. I'm sorry."

"You will be very sorry," Servalan swore. "Very sorry indeed."

"Enough time has been wasted," the Commander went on, ignoring Servalan's words. "You have been given a chance, Avon. I had heard you were a ruthless bastard. This ploy of yours only supports that."

"I'm flattered that the Federation thinks so highly of me."

"You are a traitor as Blake was a traitor. Nothing more. Whether you die now or on Earth is of no consequence."

"As long as I'm dead, yes, I see your point." Avon stroked Servalan's throat. "And Servalan?"

"Commissioner Sleer," the Commander corrected, "will be but an unfortunate casualty. In every battle there are such."

"How quaint," Avon replied with a smile. "So many of her cohorts became unfortunate casualties. And now she will join them. Perhaps there is some justice after all."

"Avon, what are we going to do?" Tarrant snapped.

"We are leaving. Can you help Dayna?"

"Did you hear what I said?" the Commander asked in disbelief.

"Yes, and you heard me as well. Make one move and Servalan dies." He began making his way slowly towards Tarrant and Dayna.

"Don't just stand there, you fools, kill him!" the Commander ordered.

"Do that and you will all be sent to Cygnus Alpha," Servalan countered after Avon had released his grip enough for her to speak.

The troopers stared from one to the other in confusion. The Commissioner outranked their Commander, but she was a prisoner of the enemy.

"Shoot him!"

One trooper made up his mind and brought his weapon to fire. He died a fraction of a second later, killed by Dayna's well-placed shot.

Avon congratulated her. "11 to 3, Commander," he advised. "The rest of you drop your weapons. Now! Place them in a nice little pile if you please."

The troopers did as instructed, then Avon neatly destroyed them with a blast from his gun.

"What now, Avon?" the Commander demanded. "You can't escape from the base. We hold it. It's useless. Why can't you see that?"

"I am rather tired of hearing you say that," Avon retorted coolly. "Tarrant, how's Dayna?"

"Not good by a long shot," Tarrant replied. "Neither of us is in the best of shape."

"We're not dead yet, Tarrant," Dayna grumbled back.

Avon smiled. "And I do not intend that we shall be, Dayna. On the floor, all of you, face down," he ordered the troopers. "You too, Commander." Avon adjusted the setting on his rifle for wide range stun and opened fire. Two quick bursts were all that was necessary.

"Why not kill them and be done with it?" Dayna asked.

"I want them to remember our hostage here," Avon told her. "Now, Servalan, we have a shuttle waiting."

#

They made it back to the landing bay and into the shuttle they had arrived in without incident. It appeared the Federation were busy mopping up and had no one to spare to guard the bay area. Leaving Servalan in Dayna and Tarrant's care, Avon removed Orac from where he had been hidden and returned to the ship.

"Can you fly it in your condition?" Avon inquired of Tarrant, noting the bloody tunic.

"I can manage, although it might not hurt to have Orac standing by just in case I pass out."

"Very well." Avon removed the crystal computer from its case and activated it.

Angry buzzings erupted. "Kindly do not jam the activation key in so abruptly."

"I will do what I please, Orac," Avon returned curtly.

"Indeed?" the computer questioned. "Well, what is it you desire now?"

"Secure all shuttlecraft, with the exception of the one we now occupy, of course, in a permanent hold which cannot be overridden. I want no one following us."

The lights flickered briefly, then Orac came back on line. "It is done. I have further deleted this shuttle's existence from the base records and cloaked it against detection by off-world Federation ships. I have also located what seems to be a rebel base some 75 kilometers to the west. Coordinates have been fed into the shuttle's navigational equipment. Have you any further demands on my time?"

Avon looked slightly surprised by the extent of Orac's precautions. "No."

"Avon, this is insane," Servalan blurted out.

"I know," he replied with a sudden giggle. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Dayna and Tarrant exchanged quick looks, then the pilot took the ship up and away from the base.

"How did Orac know about that base?" Tarrant inquired after they have been flying for nearly ten minutes.

"The same way he knows about everything, I should imagine," Avon replied.

"Wherever it is, they'd better have a doctor available," Tarrant went on. He glanced at Dayna and saw that her eyes were closed.

Avon touched her gently and Dayna opened her eyes. "I'm all right, Avon," she lied. "Just tired."

"It shouldn't be long now," Avon told her.

"Hope not," she murmured back.

"Avon, she's dying," Servalan spoke up. "Can't you see that?"

"What I see, Madame, is that you hunger for it even more than I."

"If that were true, why didn't you kill me at the base?" Servalan studied him a moment. "You have something in mind, Avon. What is it?"

He smiled almost sweetly. "In due time, Servalan. In due time."

#

By the time they reached the coordinates of the hidden base, Dayna had lost consciousness and Tarrant looked close to it.

"Where is that base of yours?" Avon demanded of Orac.

"Concealment was necessitated by infrequent flyovers from the Federation," the computer advised. "I will now initiate the proper sequence and deactivate the cloaking device."

As Orac's lights blinked, the ship took a sudden nosedive as Tarrant finally lost consciousness. Fortunately, the computer was quick to assume control of the vessel. "There are but the two of us now, Avon," Servalan purred. "Tarrant is as good as dead. Dayna may already be so. Why don't you join me?"

"You are most persistent," he commented, peering out the window of the shuttle. "But no, I'm not ready to die yet, Madame. Not yet."

Below them the thick forest had disappeared, leaving a wide clear field on which the shuttle landed. No one appeared for several minutes but when they did, they came well-armed.

Avon made no threatening gestures, but climbed carefully out of the ship. "I have two wounded inside and a prisoner," he announced to those who faced him. He waited a moment for a reaction, but there was none. "They are likely to die unless someone does something fairly soon," he added with a touch of impatience.

"You there, move away." The voice was familiar and Avon felt his heart leap for a moment. "Avon? Is that you?" A man detached himself from the others and strode quickly over to him.

"Yes, Del. Fancy meeting you here."

"Blake has been expecting you. He should be back in an hour or so."

"I seriously doubt that," Servalan announced as she was removed the shuttle. "You see, Avon killed him."

"Who's that?" Grant asked.

"My prisoner. Del Grant, meet former Madame President Servalan."

"Del Grant. Anna's brother?" Servalan inquired. "How interesting. Tell me, do you know how your sister really died?"

"Only too well, bitch," Grant snapped back. "Avalon's people told me."

Servalan smiled. "And you thought you would be safe here, Avon. Too bad."

"Get her out of my sight," Del ordered. Two of his men came and took her away.

"But not too far, Del," Avon went on, watching as Tarrant and Dayna were placed on litters and taken away. "She's a valuable hostage."

"We'll let Blake decide on that," Grant muttered. "How the hell did you deactivate the shield?"

"Orac."

"Blake mentioned it to me a while back when we were first setting things up. Said it would have cut our programming time in half. Provided we could get it to help us."

"Did he?"

"Anyone else coming?" Del inquired casually as they walked towards a stone structure.

"No. The others are dead."

Grant stopped. "I'm sorry, Avon. We've had no word from the base since the Federation instigated the blockade. That's where Blake is, checking the blockade."

 _But he's not_ , Avon thought to himself grimly.  _Blake is dead. Dead by my hand. What will Del do when he finds out?_  Avon found himself not really caring. Weariness suddenly asserted itself and Avon stumbled.

"Are you all right?"

"Of course," Avon snapped back.

"No, you're not, Avon. You look almost as bad as your two friends. Come on. You can stay in Blake's quarters."

Blake's quarters turned out to be a tiny cube of a room housing a bed, wash basin and a desk. There was a multitude of scribblings lying on the desk as well as on the floor beside it.

Avon was too tired to care and collapsed on the bed, asleep before he realized it.

#

"Let me talk to Grant," Servalan demanded from her cell. "He must know what has happened."

"But he knows already," one of her guards advised.

"He knows that Blake is dead?"

The guard fixed her with a cold eye. "Say that again and you'll get my fist in your mouth, Federation trash."

Servalan glared at him and retreated to the rough cot which served as a bed. The cell was damp and stank of mildew. It appeared, by the unmistakable stench of urine on one corner, that it had seen all too much of human usage. She wrinkled her nose up at it.

"I don't think she likes her little nest," the guard advised his companion. "Too bad, isn't it?" came the reply with a chuckle.

"You're all fools," Servalan exclaimed.

"Are we, Servalan?" Del Grant stood in the doorway. "You must think so to expect us to believe what you say."

"Del, listen to me. Blake is dead, murdered by Avon."

"Why tell me this?"

Servalan stared at him, puzzled by the lack of emotion. "I should think it obvious. Avon is a danger to all of us."

"Us, Servalan?" He grinned wickedly at her. "Have you now joined the Rebellion?"

"They were going to kill me at the base," she answered coolly "I owe them nothing."

"Come now, Servalan, you can do better than that." The voice was familiar, so was the face when it appeared.

"You can't be alive," Servalan screamed. "I saw your body. Avon killed you."

"Avon killed a clone, Servalan, the very one you had created some years ago." Blake paused. "I don't know why but I intend to find out. He did not kill Vila, though, or the other woman. That was your doing and yours alone."

"What do we do with her, Blake?" Grant asked casually.

"For now, nothing. I want her watched though. She is very dangerous, Del."

"And Avon?"

"Leave Avon to me. I'll handle him."

#

"How bad are they?" Blake stared at the two people who occupied the med couches in the infirmary.

"The man's wound was serious but not life-threatening. He should recover nicely. But the woman, she is another matter. Organ replacement is the least of it. Whole blood and a lot of it is needed immediately."

"We have all the donors you need," Del spoke up. "Just let me know the type."

"As for organs," Blake pursed his lips in thought, "I'll have Dev...." He stopped. Deva was dead as were all of his personnel at Omega base. All had been massacred there by the Federation. By the time he had caught wind of the trap, it was over with. Blake had found only 11 people still alive and they were all Federation. From them, he had learned about Avon's survival and of his escape.

"Blake, what about the organs?" the doctor prompted.

"I'll have Jenna contact her sources. Someone is bound to have connections."

"I need them as soon as possible. She's on life support now, but prolonging it can be as dangerous as no support at all."

Grant studied Blake as they walked back toward the living quarters. He read the signs all too well.

"Blake, you can't blame yourself for what happened."

"Can't I, Del? I was warned how clever this Commissioner Sleer was. I should have recognized her. If I had, Vila and the others might still be alive."

"You weren't the only one taken in. John was fooled as well."

"John. I offered him my last name, Del. He said he couldn't take it since he wasn't real." Blake ran a hand through his hair. "Wasn't real? He damn well bled real enough blood."

Grant put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "John knew the risks, Blake."

Blake went on speaking as if he hadn't heard him. "Do you know why he contacted me, Del? Why he asked to join me? Because one day while he was away from his habitat, a Federation ship appeared out of nowhere, looking for him and IMIPAK. He told me he was miles from home, mapping out the area, trying to find a good place to build a home for his wife and children. When he got back, they were all dead. Even the infant."

Grant could only nod in sympathy. John had rarely spoken to him, spending most of his time with Blake, learning as it were what it was to be Roj Blake.

"The Federation recognizes no one's age," Del said quietly. "Did they find IMIPAK?"

"No," Blake murmured with a sign. "Rashel had insisted that John take it with him in case he ran into any dangerous animal forms."

"Was that why you put him in charge of Omega base?"

"In a way. He and Deva had both lost their families to the Federation and they seemed to hit it off right away. I thought they would be good for each other."

"And the bounty hunter ploy? Whose idea was that?"

"John's. At first I objected, but later as it developed, I saw its possibilities."

They stopped, having arrived outside Blake's quarters. "Blake, Servalan said that Avon killed John. Do you think she was lying?"

"I don't know," Blake replied slowly. "I've no doubt that we've both changed in the past few years."

"No doubt," Del agreed.

"And I've heard rumours, well, you've heard them too. It's hard to tell what is truth and what is not."

"Sounds like the stories they tell about you," Grant chuckled.

"I know," Blake admitted ruefully. "And I do wish you'd stop encouraging them."

"A little white lie here and there, nothing bad."

"Later, I'd like to discuss just which 'little white lies' you consider not to be bad. But now I want to speak with Avon." He reached for the door control, but Grant stopped him.

"Blake, be very careful." He handed Blake his pistol. "It's set on stun."

"I don't need...." Blake stopped. Grant had never looked so worried, not even on Albion. "All right."

"And don't be afraid to use it."

"I won't need it," Blake protested, holstering the weapon.

"I'll wait out here."

"I don't need a nursemaid, Del."

"You're not getting one, Blake." Grant leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as if he were resting.

"Between you and Jenna, it's a wonder I have any room left for the Federation."

"I'll tell her you said that."

#

Blake opened the door and stepped inside. Avon lay flat on his back on the bed. His hair was dark with sweat, which ran down the sides of his face. Periodically, his hands would clench and unclench at whatever nightmare had hold of him.

"Is it true? Have you betrayed me?" Avon cried out. The words tore at Blake's heart, so filled with anguish were they. "Blake, tell me. Did you betray me?"

Avon's eyes flew open and stared blankly at him.

"No, Avon," Blake answered gently. "I never betrayed you."

The nightmare fled and Blake found himself staring at a weapon which had appeared like magic in Avon's hand.

"Who are you?" Avon demanded in a tone completely void of anything save the coldness of space.

"You know who I am, Avon," Blake replied.

"Liar!" Avon snapped back. "Blake is dead."

"A 'man' who looked like Blake is dead," Blake explained. "Avon, it was not me at the base. It was John, the clone who took IMIPAK."

"Clone? John?" The words meant nothing to him. He tightened his grip on the gun.

"Yes, Avon. A clone. Remember when we received Coser's message about IMIPAK. We went to meet with him but Servalan had beaten us to him. She had tricked him with a clone of Roj Blake."

Avon's eye darkened in denial, then lit again in confusion.

"Who do you work for?" Avon demanded. "The Federation? Servalan?"

"Damn it, Avon, I'm Roj Blake. I don't know why you killed John, but you did not kill me." Blake pulled out the chair by the desk and sat on it, staring at Avon.

"Move and I will kill you."

"Again?" Blake inquired. "I should think once would be enough for anyone."

Avon smiled without humor. "Ah, but not if there are two as you say there are."

Blake fought down a shudder. Avon was mad or very nearly so. "Avon, I've been to the base. I saw Vila." There was a tiny reaction to that. A blink, a slight tightening to the mouth. "The blonde woman, was she with you also?"

"Soolin." Avon furnished the name. "Yes, she came with us. As did Tarrant and Dayna. Where are they?"

"In the infirmary being cared for."

"Why don't we go and see?"

"At gunpoint?"

"Why not? It gives my hand something to do." He gestured with the weapon for Blake to stand up.

Blake shook his head. "Avon, I'm not going anywhere. Not until you put that thing down and come to your senses."

Avon laughed at that. "Servalan says I'm mad, Dayna and Tarrant believe it also. How then can I come to my senses?"

Blake was running out of time. He could feel it. Avon was not himself; in fact, Blake wasn't sure who he was. The cold logical mind which has often crossed words with him was not there anymore. Only madness dwelled there. And yet if that were entirely true, why hadn't Avon already killed him?

"Avon, what will it take to convince you that I'm telling the truth?"

"I don't know. Why don't you try humming a few bars."

"Be serious!"

"I am most assuredly that," Avon stated.

"Avon, what I told you was true. You did not kill me. You killed John." Why did that sound so heartless to Blake? He had known the clone for well over a year and yet now he had dismissed him so easily.

"So you said," Avon replied. "A most well-informed clone. Did you program it yourself?"

"No. He had most of my profile already, courtesy of Servalan and Travis. The rest of it he learned from me while he was here."

"It learned very well," Avon commented.

"Yes, he did," Blake agreed.

"How did you acquire it?"

"Him, Avon. John was a human being."

"Was he?"

"He bled like one, didn't he?" Blake demanded, losing his patience and caution.

Avon's eyes lit, lost focus, then lit again. "Yes," he murmured back. "He bled quite well." He shook his head, driving away the vision.

 _Damn it all, why did I bring that up?_  Blake demanded of himself. "Avon, please listen to me. A great deal has happened to both of us."

"That is an understatement," Avon replied in a flat tone.

Did he seem a bit less tense, Blake wondered. "I'll take you to Tarrant and Dayna if you wish, but not with a gun in my face."

"Or in your back, I take it."

"Exactly."

The pair of them glared at each other for several minutes, eyes locked in a silent battle. Surprisingly enough, it was Avon who finally broke contact. He lowered his weapon, closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

"What does it matter anymore?" Avon muttered aloud. "It's over. Finished."

Blake didn't like the sound of that one bit. "Avon, it's not over. Now that you're here, we can finish what we began."

Avon's eyes popped open. "Can we? Perhaps you may be naive enough to believe that, but what of your followers? Once they learn what happened at Gauda Prime, do you really believe they will accept me into their midst?"

"If I can accept what happened, Avon, why shouldn't they?"

"You said we both had changed, Blake," Avon answered, calling the other man by name for the first time, acknowledging his identity.

Blake smiled. "Well, I have acquired a few gray hairs here and there."

"Yes," Avon agreed. "But it appears you have not gained one ounce of sense."

Blake laughed. "That's why I'm happy to have you back, Avon. You always could spot things right in front of my face that I couldn't see."

"Vila could also," Avon added, his eyes darkening.

With pain, Blake knew. Avon and Vila had shared something very close to friendship, though neither would admit it.

"If it's any comfort, Avon," Blake said quietly, "he died almost immediately. The shot severed his spine. I don't think he felt any pain."

"He would have appreciated that, I'm sure," Avon snarled suddenly angry. "Damn it, he and Soolin would both be alive but for my stupidity."

"Not yours alone, Avon," Blake countered. "I should have seen Arlen for what she was. Yes, I know about her. The men you stunned confessed under interrogation." Blake shook his head. "I don't know why John didn't realize it."

"Clones recognize only what they've been programmed to see," Avon commented.

"No, Avon. John was different. He had matured, grown apart from me in ways that had nothing with programming. Surely you saw that!"

"I only saw a man I thought I knew," Avon replied after a few moments of silence. "Someone whom I believed had betrayed me." Anguish crowded its way into his voice and he stopped.

"Betrayed you?" Blake exclaimed. "Avon, I would never do that. Surely you realize...."

"I realized nothing...at the time, Blake. Tarrant told me some story about you or rather John being a bounty hunter bent on selling us to the Federation." He stared down at his hands. "As you said, we both had changed."

 _Enough to kill a man without reason?_  Blake wondered. "This Tarrant, is it possible that he is the one who betrayed you?"

Avon actually chuckled. "No, Blake. Tarrant may be young, but he's not stupid, at least not that stupid. He knows what would happened to him."

"Then what made you do it?"

Avon stared off into space for a long time, then shook his head. "Too many failures, too many traps, too many betrayals by supposed allies, take your pick."

He was evading the answer. Blake knew it and said as much to him.

"Damn it, Blake, I don't know!" Avon exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He began prowling about the room liked a caged panther.

If it was temporary insanity, Blake thought to himself, that might be one reason for it; but what if it were something else, some deep-seated hatred of Blake. No, Avon had never hated him, Blake knew for a certainty. Distrusted at first, yes. Given the instructions of Avon's arrest and conviction, it would have been hard for him to trust. Later Blake thought he had succeeded, only to lose Avon and the others when Liberator was damaged against the Andromedans. Blake studied him. Perhaps Avon had never really forgiven him for leaving, for giving him what he wanted. Avon was a puzzle which had many pieces and Blake had never really succeeded in finding all of them and putting them into place, at least not yet.

"Let's forget what happened for the moment, Avon," Blake said with a placating gesture. "Please, sit down."

"Why? Afraid I might try something?" Avon challenged.

Blake laughed. "Hardly. Avon, sit down. I can't talk to a prowling feline and that's what you remind me of."

"Do I?" Avon inquired, returning to the bed. "Very well, Blake. I am seated, what is you want to say?"

What really wasn't the question. It was how to phrase it properly without setting Avon off. Blake took a few moment to gather his thoughts.

"I want you back, Avon," he said quietly. "But on your own terms, not anyone else's.

Avon's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "My own terms? Come, Blake, you can do better than that."

"Avon, I don't want you joining me because of...." The words hung up in his throat.

"A guilty conscience?" Avon finished. "If and when I decide, Blake, it will not be due to that."

 _At least he didn't refuse outright_ , Blake thought to himself. "Good enough. Now shall we check on your two companions?"

#

Servalan had given up trying to coerce the two guards. They were dedicated totally it appeared to Blake and his Cause and no amount of pleading or threats could sway them.

Her one hope lay with what happened on Gauda Prime. Once his men found out what Avon did, perhaps then someone would listen to her. Perhaps believe her. As to what she would do, that was still uncertain. There was very little to work with in the midst of her enemies. Still she was Servalan, not some frightened woman who was ready to give up and die. That she would never do, not as long as her mind and body still were hers to command.

"Enjoying our hospitality?"

Servalan lifted her head and stared at the speaker. "I've seen worse."

"I bet you have." Del Grant smiled coldly back.

"Your childish attempt to frighten me is wasted, Grant," Servalan advised.

"It's not an attempt, Servalan," Grant shot back. "Only a promise. You are dead, by whose hand I don't care, but you are dead." He turned and left.

Servalan suppressed a shudder. Anna had looked at her in much the same manner when she and her band of malcontents had taken over Residence One. Madness, it appeared, ran in the family.

#

Tarrant was awake, talking to a rather pretty young nurse when Avon and Blake walked into the room. The young man broke off, staring at the pair, shock very plain on his face.

"I should have known it wasn't you, Blake," Avon commented as they approached Tarrant's bed.

Tarrant heard and his eyes darkened in anger. "As you did at Terminal, Avon? Cally died there because of your blunder."

"And Vila and Soolin died because of yours," Avon countered sharply, his hand dropping toward the weapon he still wore.

Blake stepped between them. He didn't know what Tarrant was talking about and for the moment did not care. "So you're Del Tarrant," Blake spoke up quickly. "I've heard of you."

"And I've heard of you, Blake," Tarrant growled, still glaring at Avon. "Though I'd hardly call the source reliable."

"Avon said you met John."

"The clone, you mean," Tarrant continued, turning his attention to Blake. "Your staff here told me about him."

"Did they?" Blake decided to have a talk with someone. Idle chatter was not something to be aired in the presence of strangers and until he decided otherwise, Del Tarrant was just that.

"Yes. But no one will tell me anything about Dayna. Is she...dead?"

Blake shook his head. "Not dead, but badly hurt."

Tarrant tried to sit up and made it partway despite the efforts of the young nurse to force him down. "Can I see her?"

"No, you're not up to it yet," the young nurse spoke up. "Besides she's in isolation."

"Isolation?" Tarrant exclaimed. "Why?"

"Her injuries were extensive, Tarrant," Blake advised. "She's in need of transplants. But not to worry, Jenna's arranging for them right now."

"Did Dayna say anything?" It was Avon who asked.

"No," the young nurse replied. "She's not regained consciousness since you came here."

"Jenna?" Tarrant spoke up. "But Blake...er...the clone said...."

"Said Jenna was dead, yes," Blake interrupted. "I wanted the Federation to believe that. Then it would make her slipping through blockades easier."

"Easier? Hardly that, Blake." Jenna strode in and stared coldly at Avon. "He should be under guard."

"Hello to you as well," Avon said coolly.

"Jenna, Avon is not a prisoner."

"After what we were told at the base? Blake, don't be a fool! How do we know Avon's not sold us out?"

Blake took several moments before answering. "Avon is not one who betrays, Jenna," he responded. "He is the betrayed."

He glanced at Avon to find him staring at him, eyes dark with something Blake could not read. He had thought the words would relax him but maybe he had been wrong.

"Which makes him all the more likely to do it," Jenna went on.

"No, Jenna. If there's one thing Avon would never do, it's sell Blake out." The words came from a most unexpected source - Tarrant.

"I don't need your justification, Tarrant," Avon snarled.

"I didn't give it," Tarrant countered. "It's a fact, nothing more."

"Facts did not kill John," Jenna snapped.

"No, they did not," Blake agreed. "A general misunderstanding did. Perhaps much as this one might become if I allow it to go on. But I will not. Avon is my guest as is Tarrant and Dayna Mellanby. Whether they choose to stay and join us, is entirely up to them." Blake looked at Avon. "I hope they will stay but I'm not going to force anyone to do so."

Avon almost laughed.  _Still the manipulator, aren't you, Blake?_  he thought to himself. Blake smiled slightly and Avon realized that Blake knew exactly what he was thinking. A cold scowl fixed itself on his face.

"I think Tarrant should rest now," the young nurse who had been privy to the happenings advised.

"Of course. I'd like to talk with you later, though."

"If you promise I can see Dayna as soon as she wakes up," Tarrant stated.

"Agreed." Blake ushered Jenna and Avon out into the corridor.

"You made a mistake coming here, Avon," the blonde announced as soon as the infirmary door had closed. "A very grave one."

"I did not choose the place," Avon retorted. "Orac did."

"It doesn't matter," Blake broke in.

"It matters a great deal, Blake," Jenna argued. "Don't you realize what's happening. The men who were with us at the base, they've already begun to spread what's happened. That Avon killed John. Blake, most of them loved John almost as they do you."

"One great happy family, eh, Blake?" Avon inquired.

"Every family has its rocky times, Avon," Blake replied tartly. "This one will pass."

"Before or after my demise?" Avon asked.

"Damn it, Avon. Stop saying that. No one will harm you as long as I'm alive to prevent it."

"Which might not be too long if Avon has anything to say about it," Jenna snapped.

Faster than either Blake or Jenna could move, Avon had his weapon out of its holster and pointed directly at Jenna.

"Put it away, Avon." Blake placed himself directly in front of her.

"Blake, get out of the way." Jenna tried to push him aside but it might have been easier to shove the planet.

"Or use it," Blake continued, watching Avon. "It's your choice." What he was doing was sheer lunacy and if he was killed for it, then there'd be no one to blame. He kept his eyes locked with Avon's, not daring to give an inch. He knew what might happen if he did.

Slowly, Avon dropped the weapon, a light shudder running through his body as he did so.

"Jenna, I'll see you later," Blake ordered crisply.

"But Blake, he just tried to...."

"Later, Jenna!"

Jenna swore at him and stormed away, but Blake paid her no mind. She would cool down and hopefully realize how close she had come to dying or the alternative, getting him killed.

"She always has had a quick temper," Blake offered, trying to lighten the heaviness of the moment.

"One day it may get her killed," Avon responded after a few seconds. He glanced down at his hand, looking almost surprised at the weapon in it. He holstered the gun.

Blake nodded. "I'm not sure about you, Avon, but I am famished." Blake gestured down the corridor. "How about a bite to eat?"

#

"You must have heard wrong, or else they got it mixed up. I've seen how Blake treats the man. He'd not act like that if what you claim is true."

Servalan smiled darkly as she listened to the guards talk. So, Blake's men were beginning to learn the truth of what had happened. Very good indeed. She still was not sure what she would do, but undoubtedly it would come to her when she needed it the most.

#

After they had eaten, Blake led Avon back to his cabin, then left him there to rest. The man looked threadbare from the inside out. Then Blake had gone in pursuit of Jenna. She had to be made to see what he saw.

But Blake made it only as far as the communications room. There he heard angry shouts and the sound of blows.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded, storming in the door and jerking the two combatants apart. No one answered him. "Well?!"

"Disagreement about something," one of the men muttered.

Blake knew what it was immediately. He had been expecting it. "About what happened at Omega Base?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir," said the second fighter. "I said it was all an accident. Ralfe said not. Said Avon had deliberately killed John and was a traitor."

"But he did kill John," Ralfe exclaimed angrily. "The prisoners we took said so.

"Avon did shoot John," Blake conceded. "In error. A mistake, a total misunderstanding. An accident."

"An accident? He shot him not once but three times, Blake." Ralfe shook his head. "That was not an accident."

"We don't know the circumstances," the second fighter argued. "Maybe Avon had a good reason for doing it."

"If that's true, what's to keep Avon from 'having a good reason' again?" Ralfe shot back.

"Maybe he's been programmed or something?" one of the crowd who had gathered to watch the fight suggested. "Have him checked, Blake. If it's programming, we need to know about it."

"I'll do that," Blake agreed. "But let me get this straight to all of you. Avon is not a prisoner here. He's my friend and he's my guest. If any of you try to harm him," his gaze took in everyone in the room, "in any way, you'll have me to face. Do you understand?" Heads nodded and Blake left, heading back the way he'd come. Jenna would have to wait. He had to warn Avon.

#

"It's no more than human nature," Avon replied after hearing Blake out. "It would be best if I left." He stood up.

"No, I don't think it would be. It would look like you're running," Blake paused. "Are you?"

Avon didn't answer immediately, perhaps as puzzled by the question as Blake was by the response Avon gave. "Yes, Blake, I am. And you know why. Only someone insane would have done what I did at the base. Temporary or permanent, I'm too dangerous to stay near you. I might accidently go off again."

"I'm willing to take that chance, Avon."

"But I am not," Avon argued. "I'm sorry, Blake. Sorry for coming here. Orac said there was safety here and hospital facilities. He said nothing of you."

"I'd be very hard pressed to think he would," Blake stated. "You see, I made sure ever piece of information regarding myself generated from here or Omega Base was kept secret. There were no computer records, no transmissions mentioning me, nothing."

"Then how did Orac find out about...." Avon paused in thought. "He must have sent it."

"I think so," Blake replied. "John had heard so much of you from me. He once told me that he'd like very much to meet you."

"And then he did," Avon said quietly.

"Yes. In any case, Avon, I think you should reconsider leaving. If for no other reason, there's Servalan. She's your prisoner, not mine."

"I believe hostage is the word I used," Avon corrected.

"Whatever you call her, Servalan is your responsibility."

Avon raised an eyebrow at that. "Is she?"

"Yes, Avon, she is."

Avon thought about it. How many times had he wished her dead by his hand, now more than ever he wished it, her death to balance Vila and Soolin's. But even as he pictured it, he knew he could not kill her. He was tired of killing. Revenge had lost its sweetness and he could not reclaim it.

When he discovered his gun pointed at Jenna, it had shaken the hell out of him. Avon could not recall drawing it, no matter how hard he wracked his brain. And the fact he could not terrified him. Temporary insanity, the logical portion claimed. Justifiable reflex, another portion advised. It did not matter. If Blake had not been present, Jenna would probably be dead.

"I don't think that's wise," Avon said.

"Why not?" Blake asked.

"There is too much between us. She might suffer an 'accident' while in my charge."

Blake snorted. "I doubt that, Avon. Maybe before you came here, but not now."

"You have an enormous amount of confidence in your fellow man," Avon retorted.

"I know. It's a failing of mine." Blake laughed and clapped Avon on the shoulder. "I've got to go now and settle some things."

"Am I confined to quarters then?" Avon inquired.

"Of course not. But...."

"I know how to take care of myself, Blake. I don't need you as my nursemaid."

"I never thought you did. See you later."

#

When the walls themselves began threatening him, Avon decided it was time to go for a walk. He suffered the curious and sometimes suspicious stares of Blake's men, but no one accosted him. It seemed that Blake's message had been spread and was being taken seriously.

Avon found the base to be an exact duplicate of the other one; Omega Base, Blake had called it. Everything was in exactly the same place. Even the control room where Soolin and Vila had died. He stopped just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on the exact spot where Vila's body had lain. Soolin's had been somewhere else but Avon had seen Vila fall though he had not reacted to it at the time. At the time, his mind had been frozen tight by what he had done.

"Taking a look around?"

Avon spun about, the relaxed. "Blake said it was all right."

Del Grant nodded. "I heard about what happened. Stupid people say stupid things. Don't let it bother you."

"Stupidity played a very large part in what happened," Avon agreed. His eyes returned to the spot he had been staring at before.

Grant followed his gaze and realized what Avon was thinking of. "Avon, it's over. Forget it if you can, but let it rest. Dwelling on it will only make it worse."

"Strange advice from you, Del." Avon turned to face him. "After what happened between us."

"Anna was my sister, yes," Grant stated quietly, meeting Avon's eyes. "But she was also a Federation agent. I found out all about her from Avalon's people. I didn't want to believe it at first, Avon. But there it was right in front of me. It's hard to think...."

"As you said, don't dwell on it," Avon interrupted. "I was trying to find the infirmary. Can you show me how to get there?"

"I'll do better than that. Come on."

#

Tarrant's angry shouts greeted their arrival.

"I don't care what the surgeon said, I want to see her now!"

"You can't. She's in isolation."

"You're stalling. Even I can see that." He spied Avon. "Did you arrange this or did Blake?"

Avon blinked at his accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you, Avon?"

"No, Tarrant, I do not." He turned to the young nurse. "Blake said Jenna was arranging for transplants for Dayna. Well?"

Tarrant's outbursts were minuscule compared to the hardness which filled Avon's face. "She's...she's not...." the nurse began.

"She's not what?" Avon took hold of the nurse.

"Your companion died an hour ago," the surgeon announced quietly as he entered the room. "Kindly release my nurse."

Avon did so, noting as he did that Tarrant had fallen back on his bed with an anguished expression on his face. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"What was there to say? She succumbed to her injuries. The boy there is still recovering from his. I didn't want to upset him."

"And Blake? Did he know about this?"

"I told him as soon as it happened. I think he thought to spare you."

"Spare me what? The knowledge of another life I've taken?" Avon glared at the surgeon, then stormed out of the room.

"Take care of the boy there," Grant called over his shoulder as he headed after Avon.

#

"Avon! Avon, wait."

Avon stopped, his anger almost tangible. "For what, Del? More deaths to overtake me? No, I'm leaving as soon as I can arrange transport. I'm through with all of it." He headed back the way they'd come, not quite running but very close to it.

Del could only watch and shake his head. Blake was not going to like this.

 

#

"Damn it, Del, why did you take him there?" Blake demanded.

"How was I supposed to know he wasn't to go there?" Grant snapped back. "You said no nursemaiding him, so I didn't. He asked where the infirmary was, I took him there. Next time you want to protect someone, Blake, do it yourself!" Grant stomped out of the room.

Blake glared after him a moment, then shook his head. He shouldn't have blown up at Del like that. It wasn't his fault, after all... _I should have told Avon_ , Blake thought to himself grimly.  _I honestly meant to once I had it out with Jenna. Now everything is in jeopardy._

The first thing he had to do was find Avon. That didn't prove too hard. He was back in his room, pacing.

"Avon, I'm sorry. I should have told you about Dayna."

"It would have been nice, yes," Avon replied coldly. "Instead you keep up this pretense that all is well in your little world." He stopped pacing and slammed his hand down hard on the desk in front of him. "But it's not, Blake. You can't be that naive, not with all that's happened. Face up to it."

"Face up to what, Avon? That you've taken on a conscience?" Avon's glare was absolutely deadly, but Blake braved it anyway. "That you are a human being?"

"How well you twist things, Blake. You've become a master puppeteer, it seems. Well, I'll dance no more for you. I'm leaving."

"Del told me," Blake replied, taking firm hold on his temper. Anger only made matters worse. "If you wish, I'll...."

Avon stared down at the desktop. "I'll do it on my own, Blake. Haven't you interfered enough?"

The words cut Blake like a knife and yet he could say nothing to dispute them. "Tarrant is still too weak to be moved."

"Then keep him. I don't want him. I don't want any of you!"

"And Orac?"

"You'll need him in your precious fight. Now get out!"

Blake took a step towards him. "Avon, I...."

"Leave me," Avon's tone was void, empty and yet that very quality made it seem more like a plea than a command.

In the face of that, there was nothing else that Blake could do. He paused at the doorway. "What should I tell Tarrant?"

"Tell him anything, I don't care."

Blake stared at Avon a few seconds more, then left.

"Can't you see, Blake," Avon murmured, lifting his head and gazing at the closed door. "If I stay, I'll kill you too."

#

There was a definite tension in the air. Servalan could feel it. Dissention had begun among the ranks. It would not be long before wholesale division occurred. Blake's unified rebellion would then degenerate into internal strife.

Avon killing the clone had started it and by coming here, he had further destroyed Blake's resistance movement.

Servalan smiled in triumph. She no longer feared dying. Not as long as she lived to see Avon's face as he realized what he had done. That he, not Servalan, had destroyed Blake and all he stood for.

"Poor, poor fool," she murmured to herself. "Nothing can save you or Blake now, Avon. Nothing."

#

Del Grant found a very somber-looking Blake seated at a table in the recreation hall. Whatever had happened between him and Avon, it wasn't good.

"Mind if I sit down?" Grant asked.

Blake looked up. "No, please do. Del, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. This whole business has my nerves on edge."

Grant chuckled. "Not yours alone. I saw Jenna a few minutes ago. She's not in much better shape herself. Thinks you hate her."

Blake snorted. "I'll bet. She's always been a touch jealous of Avon, you know."

"No, I didn't know." Grant thought about it a moment. "But I think I can see why. There's some chemistry between you two. All your fighting and such just makes the binding tighter."

"I used to think so," Blake muttered, his mood dropping back into gloom.

"You couldn't change his mind, eh?"

"No. He's dead set on leaving this time. I've never heard such determination in his voice before, Del. It's like he doesn't care anymore about anyone or anything."

"Blake, you know what he's doing as well as I. Scouring the universe trying to find you. Then when he thinks he does, well, everything sort of fell apart."

"That's an understatement, Del," Blake replied tartly. "I should never have left him or the others."

"But you did. All of that is long past," Grant went on. "Look, I saw Avon a few minutes ago. Why don't you try again? Maybe now that he's had time to think about it, maybe he's changed his mind."

"I don't think so, Del," Blake answered back.

"You won't know unless you go and find out."

Blake hauled himself up. "Where did you see him?"

"Crossing the landing field, going toward the detention area."

"The what?!" Blake exclaimed and took off.

Grant stared after him a moment, then followed.

#

Avon had come to a decision after Blake left. He had one thing more to do before he left. A final cleansing of what lay between them. With that out of the way, Blake would have little to no problem destroying the Federation.

He met no one as he set about his task. No one at least until he reached Servalan's cell. There was a guard present.

"I want to see the prisoner," Avon demanded.

"Blake said nothing about visitors, sir," the guard replied, turning his back to Avon to use the communicator. "I'll have to...."

Avon clipped him sharply on the neck, the caught the limp body and eased it back down behind the desk. He would be out long enough for Avon to finish what he came for.

#

Servalan heard the soft whisper of the cell door sliding open and looked up. A shadowy figure stepped in. But she knew him; even in the dark, she recognized him.

"Come to visit the condemned, have you?"

"No."

"Then why come at this hour?"

"Because it's of my choosing."

The flatness of his voice sent a chill through her body. "You've come to finish it, haven't you, Avon? Our little game is over."

"Yes, Servalan. It is over." He produced a small pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her.

"Blake will not like it," Servalan advised.

"It does not matter what he likes," Avon countered, motioning her to get up. "Stand up."

"And if I do not?"

"Then I shall kill you where you lie."

Servalan shrugged. As he said, it was over. There were no more tricks to be played, no more empty promises. "Does Blake know you are here?"

"Blake does not own me!"

Servalan smiled, content that she had managed to once again crease the iron shield he had barricaded himself within. "Doesn't he?"

"No, Servalan, he does not."

Avon whirled, his weapon pointed for a split second at Blake before he lowered it.

"I knew it would come to this, Avon. Personal vendetta I believe it's called. I can't let you do it."

"Can't?" Avon snapped angrily. "Why? Your precious sense of honor? You have no more honor than I, Blake. You only pretend to."

His words bounced off Blake without effect. "I won't let you kill yourself, Avon."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"You know it is. You want to escape...permanently. You've tried everything else but there are no boltholes deep enough for you to hide in and feel safe. None save one. Death is not an escape, Avon. It's total rejection."

"Of what?" Avon demanded. "Your precious Cause?"

"You were never one to quit at anything, Avon," Blake persisted. "Don't start now. Give me the gun." He held out his hand.

"No, Blake. Not before I finish what I came here for. Do you know how many times I've spared her life? Each time, it cost me a little more. No, Blake, this time there will no reprieve."

"Servalan will pay for her crimes, Avon, but not by your hand. Don't you know, by killing her, she will win?"

"It does not matter, Blake."

Blake took a step forward. "Avon, please. Don't force me to stop you." He pulled out the small pistol that Del had given him earlier.

"You'd kill me to protect her?"

"Yes, because what you are doing is wrong. Give me the gun, Avon."

"I'm sorry, Blake, I can't." Avon whirled about, firing as he did so, his blast catching Servalan squarely in the chest. A second shot rang out catching Avon in the middle of the back. He dropped to his knees, then rolled over onto his back, staring up at Blake with something like gratitude on his face.

Blake stared in horror at the weapon in his hand, then flung it across the room. "Damn it, Avon, why did you make me do it?" he demanded in an anguished voice, gathering Avon into his arms. "Why?"

"Necessary," Avon murmured. "Payment as it were." His vision blurred for a few moments, then focused again. Blake was no longer alone. Del Grant was with him.

"Servalan was mine, Del."

"She's dead, Avon," Grant told him. "That's all I ever wanted."

"Hmmmm." Something splashed on his cheek. A tear. Blake was crying. Avon would not allow that. "Don't Blake. Jenna was right. I'm not worth it."

"Damn Jenna," Blake exclaimed. "Damn the whole Universe."

"And your Cause, Blake? Do you damn it as well?"

"No, Avon," Blake confessed. "I can't. It brought us together."

A random thought blossomed into clarity for an instant. Pain, he felt no pain. "You were right about Vila, Blake, I don't think he felt anything."

Blake nodded grimly. "I wanted as much for you."

"Did you?" Avon's voice was a faint whisper. Darkness was engulfing his mind, swallowing everything which resembled life.

"I never meant to hurt you, Avon, please believe that."

"Nor I you, Blake." Avon sighed contentedly. "Now there's no way I can." It was nearly complete, the darkness around him. All but two distant beacons of light which flashed once, twice, then blinked out. He was safe at last.

the end


End file.
